


Wings of a Lion pt 2

by Skald_Maer



Series: The Eagle and the Lions [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Break Up, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Bondage, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Porn With Plot, Quidditch World Cup, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27676183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skald_Maer/pseuds/Skald_Maer
Summary: The first two weeks of summer holiday dragged on. Every night I was dragged to a different dinner party where I was pawed at by rich old witches seeking dowry matches for their grandsons. My parents were old money and held on to some of the more archaic ways of thinking. I was lucky they hadn’t arranged a marriage for me at birth, though I guessed it was probably so they could use me as a way to stay in the inner circles. By their last night in town, I had had enough.
Relationships: Oliver Wood/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Eagle and the Lions [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740067
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third story in the series The Eagle and the Lions.   
> Takes place between Prisoner of Azkaban and Goblet of Fire (July-August ‘94)  
> This is a new addition to the series. I’ve done some story line editing now that I’m working on the final story of the series.   
> I do not claim to own any of the Harry Potter characters, locations, or references named herein. The OFCs, OFMs, and non-cannon locations are my own.   
> I wrote this for me and anyone interested in this topic so I won't be taking advice/opinions/critiques etc. I'm sorry if I disappoint. I do take requests though, so if you've got a fred/george/ofc scenario you want written out, shoot me a message. Or any characters except the main trio really.   
> Beta by Franky02Toes

The first two weeks of summer holiday dragged on. Every night I was hauled to a different dinner party where I was paraded in front of rich old witches seeking dowry matches for their grandsons, who mostly stood there looking inbred and bored. My parents were old money and held on to some of the more archaic ways of thinking. I was lucky they hadn’t arranged a marriage for me at birth, though I guessed it was probably so they could use me as a way to stay in the inner circles. By what felt like the 100th social engagement and their last night in town, I had had enough. 

I had endured yet another evening of dull men and even duller conversations, and trudged into the house in the wake of my mother scolding me for my cold demeanor. “You might just be a little more grateful,” she said, blocking my escape to my rooms. “You must think about your future, and your standing in the community. A good match could allow you to follow whatever path you wish! You just need to produce an heir and then can go about chasing dragons or whatever it is you want.” 

Interrupting her monologue I snapped, “I’m not one of your sister’s prized mares, just to be shown off and bred! If I marry I don’t want it to be because of the status of someone’s ancient family tree!” I turned away from her and stalked toward the door. “I’m going to the Burrow. I’ll send for my things.” As I grabbed my broom I turned around and said coldly, “By the way, Oliver is a lord, just in case anyone was wondering.” I stormed out of the house yelling, “See you next year.” 

My heart pounded in my chest as I flew to The Burrow, ignoring the cold wind as it whipped past my face. I was halfway to the Burrow when I had calmed down enough to realize I was still in my party clothes. I stopped short, floating in the air while I considered my options. 

I rarely spoke of my family, and when I did share, it was a very watered down version. The twins knew my parents were archaeologists, and they knew they dragged me to parties when they were in town, but I always made them seem like scholarly parties, not elitist socialite gatherings. Only Mrs. Weasley knew the whole story, and I had begged her not to tell anyone. The twins would tease me mercilessly if they knew I had a dowry. I couldn’t go home and change, that would defeat the purpose of me storming out. I would just tell Fred and George that it was some old aunt's birthday and that my parents were leaving from the party. Satisfied with my excuse, I continued my flight to the Burrow.

It was after midnight by the time I arrived, and the house was dark. Hovering beside the window to the twins bedroom I quietly undid the latch and stepped onto the sill. Leaning my broom against the wall I hopped down, and stepped in a box filled with something sticky. “Yetch,” I groaned, then clapped my hand over my mouth. I heard a rustle of a blanket then Fred whispered, “Who’s there?” “It’s me,” I whispered back. “What did I just step in, and is there more of it?” 

George chuckled softly. “It’s our latest product, and probably. Hang on, I’ll turn on a light.” “No!” I said loudly but it was too late. The lamp clicked on, bathing the room in a soft warm glow. “Er,” Fred said, staring. I turned scarlet with embarrassment. It wasn’t so much the clothes, I wore dresses at school now, but I never wore heels, or anything more than mascara. Now, I was standing in their room, one foot in a box of what appeared to be toffee, in a short black dress, tall blue heels, and hair and make up done like some sort of pageant queen. I saw movement on my left and realized George was signalling me to spin, a gleeful look on his face. 

I rolled my eyes, extricated myself from the toffee box, and kicked off my shoes. “Can I, er, borrow some clothes?” I asked. When they continued to sit there, grinning like idiots, I added, “Please?” Fred threw back his covers and grabbed a shirt and a pair of cotton pj pants out of a drawer and handed them to me, shaking his head. “Close your eyes,” I said. They obliged and Fred said, “Rough night?” while I dressed. “You could say that. Ok, you can look now.” They opened their eyes and looked at me expectantly. “So?” George asked. “What happened? If you’re going to knick our clothes you can at least tell us why.”

“Great aunt’s birthday,” I muttered. “Mom thinks it’s fun.” Fred and George who also had a rather snobby aunt, both nodded in sympathy and understanding. “Well,” said Fred. “Didn’t think you were coming until tomorrow so we didn’t bring a bed in for you.” He threw a pillow on the floor and winked. “I’m sure it’s more comfortable than that dress.” I rolled my eyes and looked at George. “Budge over.” He scooted to the edge of his bed and said with eyes wide, “I don’t think it’s decent for a lady of such class to be found in bed with a man before marriage.” Glaring at him, I crawled under the covers. “I’m not a lady, I don’t have class, and I’m tired. You sleep on the floor if you’re so worried about my honor. Though mind whatever that sticky box is.” 

“I’ll protect your honor, Princess,” Fred said, holding his covers open. “You kick in your sleep,” I said, reaching for the light. George ruffled my hair in the dark then rolled over, putting his back against mine. I sighed contentedly. Fred and George were my best friends, and the Burrow was the safest place in the world. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the comforting sounds and smells of the Burrow.


	2. Chapter 2

I awoke the next morning to the delicious smell of bacon frying. I tried to sit up, but couldn’t, a heavy weight was pinning me to my bed. As I struggled against the weight, the events of last night came into sharp focus. I wasn’t in my bed, I was in George’s. I had snuck into their room in the middle of the night and the heavy weight was George’s arm. He was lying on his stomach, head turned away from me, his arm thrown across my stomach. I turned my head the other way to see Fred watching me, a curious expression on his face. “Morning,” he said abruptly when we made eye contact. “Morning,” I said cheerfully. 

Getting a grip on the offending arm, I pushed it aside and hopped out of bed. Rooting through their drawers I took a pair of athletic pants and slipped them on. “Just gonna borrow these until my trunk gets here,” I said. Fred waved his hand in acquiescence, then slid out of bed. Walking over to George he leaned over to whisper something in his ear, but instead said very loudly, “BREAKFAST!” I jumped and George sat up abruptly, swearing. He started to lunge toward Fred, but Fred waggled a finger and pointed at me. “Not when there is a lady present.” I went to the door and turned around, curtseying. “You have my blessing, good sirs.” I turned, cackling, and walked down the stairs. 

Mrs. Weasley looked startled to see me when I walked into the kitchen. “Good morning dear, I thought you weren’t coming until this afternoon.” I looked sheepish. “Sorry Mrs. Weasley, I had a row with Mother last night after she practically auctioned me off.” “Oh dear,” Mrs. Weasley said sympathetically. She looked like she wanted to say more but Mr. Weasley came into the kitchen. “Morning,” he said, then looked at me again. “Thought you were coming this afternoon.” Mrs. Weasley handed him a cup of tea. “Yes, dear, but she had a row with her parents last night.” “Ah,” Mr. Weasley said, “Sorry to hear that. Well, it’s not like we don’t have experience in these things, eh my dear?” and he leaned down to give Mrs. Weasley a kiss. “It’s never easy,” replied Mrs. Weasley, raising up on tiptoe to kiss him back. “I’ll make up a room for you dear,” Mrs. Weasley said. 

“Oh don’t trouble yourself Mrs. Weasley, I’ll just drag the cot into Fred and George’s room.” Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked at each other. Mr. Weasley coughed and stood, “I’m going to check the garden, Molly...make sure the gnomes aren’t tearing up the arugula, ” He shuffled out of the room and I shifted nervously in my seat. I knew when Mrs. Weasley had a lecture coming. “Dear,” she said gently. “It was fine for you to stay with the boys when you were younger, but you’re a young woman now. I think it would be better for you to have your own room.”

Her tone was gentle, but stern; there would be no arguing the point with her. “Yes, Mrs. Weasley,” I said. “At least let me make up the room? You already do so much for me, I couldn’t bear for you to go to all that trouble.” She beamed at me. “It’s no trouble at all. I’ll have it done in a jiffy.” She spooned a huge helping of breakfast potatoes and eggs onto my plate, just as Fred and George stumbled in. “Morning, Mum,” they chorused as they sat on the bench beside me. 

The next few weeks sailed by. Charlie came to visit near the end having taken time off for the Cup, so we played a few excellent games of Quidditch. Mr. Weasley had invited me to the World Cup, but I explained that I was going with Oliver. “Ah, Wood, I hear he’s got a shot at Puddlemere,” he said. Fred and George mocked Oliver behind his back, pretending at being accepted onto Puddlemere, then drilling the team to exhaustion. I stifled a giggle, trying to look serious as Mr. Weasley continued discussing Oliver’s Quidditch skill.


	3. Chapter 3

August 1st arrived and at last it was time to join Oliver at Burnbank Cottage. I couldn't keep an excited grin off my face while I stepped into the fireplace, said "Burnbank Cottage!", and waved goodbye to the Weasleys. When the spinning sensation stopped I was standing in Oliver’s large fireplace in the large whitewashed cottage. I stepped out into the silent living room and looked around confused. Pulling out my letter from Oliver I reread it. “Come to Burnbank Cottage by Floo at noon on 1, August. Come hungry, we’ll lunch with my parents,” it said. It was 12:05, and I called out, “Oliver?” with no answer. Stepping out of the fireplace, I dragged my trunk over to the couch and began to wander the house. Oliver wasn’t in his bedroom or bathroom, and in fact, the whole house seemed to be untouched, like he hadn’t been here at all. 

Nervously, I smoothed out the skirt of my blue dress. I didn’t want to be late for lunch with his parents. Oliver was important to me and I really wanted to make a good impression. I was staring out the large bay windows when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Four horses, three with riders, were trotting toward the cottage. I stared as they drew nearer and realized one of the riders was Oliver, then backed away from the window and he dismounted and jogged up to the cottage with a package in one hand and boots in the other. “Sorry I’m late,” he said when he came in. “We had to grab Nimue for you. Also sorry I told you to wear the dress, Mother decided this morning she wanted to ride.” 

I put my hands on my hips and said smartly, “Had I known we’d be riding I would have brought my polo attire.” “Har har,” he said, then dropped the package and boots and leaned in to kiss me. I ran my fingers through his hair, and kissed him, melting against him. He pulled away and grabbed the package. “Better put this on before they come looking for us.” I opened the package and folded neatly inside was a pair of riding breeches and a polo shirt. I shucked off the dress and slipped into the riding clothes, then pulled on the boots. Twirling, I said, “How do I look?” 

“Like my parents better find another way to spend the afternoon,” he said, then swept me up for another kiss. A minute later he broke the kiss with a sigh and ushered me toward the door. Outside, his parents were mounted on large bay horses, holding the reins of the other two. His mother smiled warmly and his father nodded as Oliver made our introductions; his mother’s name was Norah, and his father was Corum. Oliver clearly got his coloring from his mother. She was a tall thin woman with dark eyes and a mass of wavy bronze hair that fell just past her shoulders. His father had sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes, but shared Oliver’s broad chest and shoulders. 

As I took the reins of Nimue, a tall white mare, Norah leaned over her horse’s withers. “Oliver says you are good on a broom, and a horse isn’t terribly different. Have you ridden before, dear?” I nodded. “My aunt has horses. Sometimes I go up there with my parents when they’re in town. It’s been a year or so though.” She smiled gently. “Nimue is very well behaved. She is a retired polo pony, and is very responsive. Go easy on her mouth and she’ll be a dream for you.” I smiled back and swung nimbly into the saddle. “Thank you, Mrs. Wood.” “You’re quite welcome dear, but do call me Norah. I’d thought we’d have a picnic today out by the pond. I’m not much of a talent with the broom, so Corum has sweetly agreed to take the horses.” 

Corum grinned at me, and it was Oliver’s grin, the one that lit up his eyes. I couldn’t help but smile back. “I’m an old Quidditch man myself,” he said in a rolling Scottish brogue. “Norah here manages to get me on these monsters every time, though.” He leaned forward in the saddle and squinted at me. “So, Oliver tells me you play for Ravenclaw. Beater, is it? Unusual, not many girls go for that.” I nodded. “Yessir. Well, you see, I grew up with Fred and George, so we all learned to play together.” “Ah,” he said. “So you had to show ‘em how it was really done, then? Good on you!” I laughed, then my laughter turned into a gasp of delight as we reached the top of the hill. 

Sprawled out in a small valley spilling out into the ocean was a large estate. Manicured gardens dotted with ponds and fountains surrounded a large chateau. Norah stopped, realizing I had not followed them down from the hill, then looked from Oliver to me, and back to her son. “Oliver!” she said sternly. Oliver looked at me sheepishly and Corum said, laughing, “Well, we know she’s not after your money.” I blushed and Corum laughed harder. “Only teasin’ ya, lass. Come on, we’ve got a ways to go to the pond. Hup hup,” he said, kicking the horse into a canter. 

I followed, grateful that Nimue was so mild mannered that I could look around as we cantered past. Oliver moved his horse to canter next to me. “Sorry,” he said. “I forget how shocking it can be sometimes.” I turned my head to look at him. “What about the cottage? I thought…” I stopped talking as I realized there was only one bedroom in the cottage. I had never questioned where his parents were, or where they slept. “I like to stay at the cottage,” he said. “It’s quiet and peaceful there. We can stay up at the big house if you’d like. I just didn’t take you there last time because, well, I wanted privacy.” He looked down, blushing slightly. “I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression about me either. No one at school really knows about this.” He gestured at the house. 

I nodded. I, of all people, could understand. I fidgeted in the saddle, and Oliver looked at me, worried. “I should have said something, shouldn’t I have?” he asked. I shook my head. “No Oliver, it’s not that. I, er, I have something I should tell you, too.” He slowed his horse to a trot and looked at me expectantly. “I, er, have a dowry. We don’t have an estate like this, but that’s because my parents are gone most of the year and don’t like the work for maintaining one.” “Huh,” he said, thinking. “Is that why the twins always call you princess?” A look of alarm filled my face. “No! And they can’t ever know. I’d never hear the end of it.” Oliver nodded solemnly. “Now that I completely agree with.” He leaned over to kiss the top of my head then urged his horse back into a canter. “Come on,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Race you to the pond.”

Laughing, I asked Nimue for a gallop and gave her her head, trusting her to know the land better than me. She practically flew over the ground, passing Norah and Corum in a blur of white. Dimly I heard Norah and Corum laugh, then the thud of hooves thundering behind us. When we reached the pond I was three lengths ahead of them and Nimue slowed to a trot, splashing eagerly in the water.


	4. Chapter 4

During the first week at Oliver’s I played quite a lot of Quidditch with Corum, and when I wasn’t displaying my broom skills, Norah took me for long rides on the Moor. Each day I woke breathless with the beauty of my surroundings. One beautiful sunny day, while we were having another picnic lunch out by the lake, a very official looking owl alighted on our blanket. We all stared at the bird for a moment before Corum said, his voice vibrating with excitement. “That’s the Puddlemere Seal!” 

We all turned to look at Oliver who just stared dumbly at the owl. I placed a hand on his back and said encouragingly, “Go on, open it!” He reached forward tentatively and took the letter from the owl’s leg. It hooted once, then took off into the sky. Oliver unrolled the parchment slowly and began to read. His eyes darted over the neat lettering again and again. “Oliver?” Norah asked quietly. He looked up, startled, as if he forgot we were there. 

A broad grin split his face and he raised the letter victoriously over his head. “I did it!” he yelled. “I start for Puddlemere this fall!” We all cheered and pulled him into crushing hugs. When the excitement subsided, Corum said, “Lets go to dinner to celebrate!” We all laughed and packed up our lunches. Oliver spent the whole ride back in dazed silence.

That night Oliver and his parents Apparated me to Diagon Alley to celebrate at one of the more elegant restaurants. We were far too loud and stayed far too long at the restaurant, but the wait staff seemed unperturbed. Perhaps it was the three incredibly expensive bottles of mead we ordered, or the fact that they had a potential celebrity in their midst. We returned by Floo, too fuzzy from mead and fire whiskey to attempt Apparition. Waving goodnight to his parents, we appeared in the fireplace of the cottage. 

Oliver leaned against the couch and held out his arms to me. I came toward him, and gave him a light shove, pushing him over the back of the couch. He fell back with a soft thud, sprawled along the length of the couch. I climbed over the back of the couch and straddled his waist. As I leaned down to kiss him, he put his hands on my shoulders to stop me. I sat up, looking at him curiously. He stared at me for a moment, looking conflicted, then said quietly, “Do you love me?”

I stared back at him in silence for a moment, then scooted back toward the opposite arm of the couch. Crossing my legs I looked at him thoughtfully. “I...I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I mean, I love spending time with you, I’ve just never really thought about it.” I paused for a moment then asked, “What brought this up?” He sat up, leaning against the back of the couch and considered me for a moment before he spoke. 

“In September you go back to Hogwarts, and I go to Dorset to train. I won’t have a lot of free time. I know we get Easter and Christmas, but it’s only a week for each. I hope to take Puddlemere to the next Cup and that’s a lot of training, and traveling for games, and…” I cut him off. “Oliver, stop.” I moved closer to him, and leaned forward, resting my hands on his knees. “I never expected this to go on forever. I mean, I’ve still got two years left. It’s unrealistic to think we’d just see each other at Christmas and Easter.” 

I grinned, slowly sliding my hands up his thighs. “I mean, if I can’t keep my hands off you, how do I expect all those cute Quidditch groupies to do it?” I had reached the top of his thighs and I squeezed lightly, pressing my thumb into the soft flesh of his groin. His eyes darkened and I pulled away, letting my hands drift back down his thighs. “Tease,” he growled, leaning forward. I giggled and shifted back away from him. He came forward, pressing me backward against the couch, until he was above me. I looked at him seriously, hovering just above, hands resting beside my head. “Oliver, you were my first, so there will always be a special place for you in my heart. But I don’t want to worry about you with other girls, or have you worry about me with other boys., That would ruin what we have.”

I paused, thinking. “I don’t think I’m capable of long distance. And Quidditch is your true love, I can’t compete with her. I’m so proud of you for achieving your dream Oliver, I never want to interfere with that.” He considered me then said softly. “So when you go back to school, we’ll just be friends.” I nodded. “I’d like to be friends,” I said seriously, then added, eyes dancing, “I mean, who doesn’t want to be friends with a world famous Keeper!” He chuckled, then his eyes darkened again and he leaned forward until his face was an inch from mine. “Well,” he said, his voice husky, “September is a long ways off.”   
He kissed me sweetly, running his tongue lightly over my lips until I parted them for him, deepening the kiss. I arched into him, grabbing a fistful of hair with one hand and fumbling at his belt with the other. When I removed his belt, he pulled away from the kiss. He was looking at me seriously again, and I sighed. “Now who’s the tease?” A range of emotions flickered over Oliver’s face, then settled on nervous. “What is it?” I asked. He swallowed. “Could we, er, could we try something different?” he asked. 

“Different?” I asked curiously. “What do you mean ‘different’?” He blushed. “Can I try some new things with you?” Still not fully understanding, I nodded slowly. “Sure,” I said cautiously. “What kind of new things?” “Do you trust me?” he asked, beginning to sound calmer now. “Yes, of course Oliver, but what are you on about?” He abruptly stood and scooped me up in his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold on, laughing. “Oliver, what has gotten into you?!”

He set me gently down on the edge of the bed. “I wanted to do this earlier, but I got nervous, then I got the letter from Puddlemere, and I wasn’t sure...with...you know, how things will be between us later...if you would want to keep on.” I looked at him dumbfounded. “Oliver, I love having sex with you, why would I want that to stop before it has to?” He shrugged. “Well,” he said slowly, “there are things I wanted to try with you.” “Like what?” I asked. He blushed again and looked down. “Can I just show you?” More curious than exasperated, I nodded. “Ok, Oliver. Show me.”

He grinned, and it was a fierce grin, one I only saw when he won a match. He turned and left the room, then came back a minute later with something clutched in his hand. He held it out to me, and I took it. It was a sleep mask made of some thick fabric wrapped in silk. I stared at it until he said, “Put it on. Please?” I looked at him curiously, then put it on, settling the soft fabric over my eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

The mask molded itself to my face, blocking out even the slightest hint of light. I felt Oliver’s hand on mine, his fingers wrapping around my palm. “Stand up,” he said, and his voice was strained. I let him pull me up off the bed then released his hand, running mine over the front of the dress. I stood there awkwardly for a moment, and when I was about to say something, I felt him move behind me, dropping my hand to reach for the zipper. “If you want me to stop, just say stop,” his voice came low and tight in my ear.

Slowly he dragged the zipper down my back, letting his fingers trail along the exposed flesh. I shivered under his delicate touch. As the dress fell to the floor around my ankles I felt his fingers move down my lower back to trace over the top of my underwear. Hooking his thumbs into the front of my underwear he began to slide them slowly down my legs. I felt him shift, moving to stand in front of me. I could feel his presence in front of me, but for several long moments he stood without touching me. 

“Oliver?” I asked tentatively. There was another beat of silence then I felt one arm wrap around my waist and another slide behind my thighs, then my feet left the ground as he lifted me into his arms. We moved just a few steps before I felt him bend and he lowered me onto the soft blankets covering his bed. As he slid his arms out from under me his lips brushed mine and I parted them for him, but he pulled away. I let out a soft sound and I heard him chuckle, then mutter a spell and I felt ropes slide over my body and wrap around my wrists and ankles. As they tightened, they pulled my legs open and gently tugged my arms over my head. 

I pulled back, testing my range of motion, and the ropes tightened slightly until I could wiggle only an inch or so. I grinned and bit my lip in anticipation. I felt the bed shift under his weight as he moved between my legs. There was another long pause as he cast another spell, then I felt something light and soft touch my skin just below my navel. It drifted down my body and flicked lightly across my clit causing me to twitch. The sensation moved down the inside of my thigh, over my knee, down my shin, and across the top of my foot. After a brief pause I felt it move up my other leg, following the same trail. 

Just when I expected it to brush over my clit something sharp and cold bit into the crease between my leg and hip. I jerked, pulling the ropes tighter, and it moved up and over my hip. It moved up my side until it reached my breast. The pin pricks moved up over the side until it bit into my nipple. I moan and wiggled, arching my back into the sensation. It circled my nipple, occasionally crossing over it to bite into the hard point before drifting over to the other nipple. As it repeated the same pattern on my other nipple, I felt the soft feathery thing brush across my clit. It circled slowly, barely touching as I groaned and strained against my bonds. 

I felt Oliver’s finger drift lightly down my slit, slowly separating the labia until I was exposed to him. While the pin pricks continued at my nipples and the feathers brushed in circles across my clit, Oliver ran a finger in circles around my entrance. “Oliver,” I gasped out. “Please.” I could practically feel him grinning as he said, “Please what?” then ran his thumbs along the outside of my opening and began to press them into me. “Ungngghh,” I moaned, throwing my head back and arching my back in pleasure. “Please….gods….just….fuck me,” I said, moaning around the words. He chuckled, then slid his thumbs into me, pulling outward against the walls. 

My eyes rolled back in my head and my toes curled as the heat of a building orgasm rolled through my body. I felt the bed shift and all sensation ceased- the biting thing disappeared from my nipples and the light caress of my clit vanished. As Oliver moved, he withdrew his thumbs and I felt the mattress dip as he placed his hands on either side of my head. His cheek brushed mine and I felt his warm breath on my ear. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he said, his voice low and husky. I shivered, and he continued, “I’m going to go slow, and take my time. I don’t want you to cum until I’m ready, do you understand?” I moaned quietly and nodded.


	6. Chapter 6

He shifted back, settling between my legs, and I felt the head of his cock rub along my slit. I bit my lip hard and dug my fingers into the blankets to keep still. “Good girl,” he crooned. He paused with just the tip of his cock resting inside me. Time stretched on, but I remained still, pressing myself into the bed. He chuckled and I heard a faint buzzing noise. I jerked violently, bucking against him as the buzzing noise became a buzzing sensation against my clit. It vibrated fiercely and he plunged inside of me, burying himself to the hilt. I came instantly, spasming around him as he thrust in and out of me, fighting to control my body as it writhed beneath him. 

I heard him mutter something and the ropes holding my hands above my head vanished. He grabbed my hand and wrapped my fingers around the vibrating ball. Positioning my hand over my clit, he held it there for a moment, then released it to grab my waist and pressed me into the bed as he sent himself deeper and deeper with each thrust. I gripped the vibrating ball and bucked my hips up to meet his. Suddenly, he pulled out and I groaned at the emptiness. 

The ropes released my ankles as Oliver slid an arm underneath me to flip me over so I was on my stomach. Grasping my waist he pulled me back until my hips were raised off the bed. I turned my head to the side, resting my cheek on the mattress to look at him. He slid his hands down my side until his fingers settled in the crease between my hips and legs. I felt him line himself up and I wiggled my ass expectantly. I felt the sharp sting of a slap across my ass and pitched forward into the pillows. I let out a small whimper as he gently caressed the stinging spot then trailed his fingers in slow circles toward my inner thigh. 

He mimicked the pattern with his other hand, moving both closer and closer until his thumbs brushed across my labia. Rubbing his thumbs across my lips he pulled them open, and rested the head of his cock against my opening. I quivered, fighting the urge to rock back into him and instead I braced myself on one elbow while I slid the other hand between my legs and pressed the vibrating ball against my clit. “Good girl,” he murmured then thrust into me, snapping his hips against my ass. I moaned at the sudden and intense pressure and pushed back into him. This time there was no stinging slap just a low groan from Oliver as he pushed against the end of me. 

He began to pull back, leaving just the tip of him resting inside me, then thrust forward again. He moved in a pounding rhythm, sending me forward with each thrust until I reached forward to brace myself against the headboard with both hands, releasing the vibrating ball. When my legs were shaking with the building orgasm, I felt a finger delicately circle my asshole. I jerked at the sensation then relaxed as he made soothing sounds and his other hand pressed the vibrating ball into my clit. He applied a little more pressure to my asshole and whispered, “Is this ok?” I nodded, moaning as the vibrations brought me closer to an orgasm. 

A cooling sensation spread across my backside and I balked. “It’s a cleaning spell, love,” he murmured. “And a little lube.” I nodded slowly, torn between nervousness and curiosity. He continued to fuck me with a steady pounding rhythm as he worked his finger slowly into my ass. As he slipped past the second knuckle I shuddered and the orgasm rolled over me. I rocked back, driving both his cock and finger in as deep as they would go. I bucked furiously against them, lost in the throws of the orgasm. 

A second wave assaulted me as I felt him swell inside me. The pressure of his finger was suddenly gone and both hands wrapped around my hips as he drove himself deeper and deeper with each thrust. I cried out and spasmed around him as he came. Spent, he rested his head on my back as I lay panting into the pillows. Slowly he withdrew to collapse beside me. I turned my head and watched him through a sheet of hair that had fallen over my face. He was lying on his back, eyes closed, broad chest heaving as he caught his breath. 

As his breathing began to even out, he spoke. “Maybe...maybe friends with benefits?” he asked. I giggled and tossed my hair out of my face. “Oliver you’re not going to have time for me. You’ll be too busy taking Puddlemere to the next World Cup!” His eyes lit up at the thought, and he turned onto his side to look at me. Tracing his fingers in circles on my back he said slowly. “If you’re not seeing anyone in four years, meet me on the pitch of the World Cup.” I blinked at him. “Oliver, you're such a romantic. In four years you’ll be famous and I’ll be nobody.” “So?” he said sharply. “And you won’t be nobody. You’ll be doing something so extraordinary, my fame will pale in comparison.” 

I looked at him, just stared into those warm brown eyes for a long, silent minute. I took in the determined set of his mouth, and the shadow on his unshaven jaw, highlighting his high cheekbones. He was gorgeous, romantic, and caring. He could probably fall off his broom in the middle of a match and people would still swoon for him. In four years I’d be nothing more than a memory to him. “Ok, Oliver. Four years, on the pitch. I’ll be there even if I have to beat your adoring fans off you with a bludger bat.” “That’s my girl,” he said as he pulled me into his arms.


	7. Chapter 7

The excitement crackled through the air like electricity. This was it, the day of the Quidditch World Cup. Hundreds of tents filled the open fields, broken only by small copses of trees. Norah’s voice startled me out of my reverie. “Dear, why don’t you and Oliver take a wander, Corum and I will set up the tents.” I nodded and turned to look at Oliver. He grinned at me in barely contained joy. He grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into the maze of tents. 

Oliver half ran, dragging me along, all the way up to the pitch. Gasping in awe we stood staring up at the stands. They towered above us, obscuring the pitch from view. We ran around the edge of the stands, looking for the gates in. Finding one unmonitored, we walked out onto the pitch. I heard Oliver breath in sharply as we looked around. His hand trembled with emotion, and I twined my fingers through his. He looked down at me, eyes filled with feverish excitement. 

All of a sudden he pulled me against him in a crushing embrace, and crashed his mouth against mine. He kissed me deeply, pouring all the passion and excitement he held for Quidditch into that kiss. I pressed against him, swept along in the current of desire. We broke the kiss, panting, and looking around awkwardly as we returned to the present. Seeing no one watching, Oliver kissed me again, then led me back off the pitch.

The dawn light was growing brighter as we returned to Norah and Corum. Norah was finishing setting up a large tent, and Corum was cooking something that smelled delicious over a small fire. Oliver began describing the pitch in great detail, and Corum pressed a plate into my hand. It was a hash of some sort, and absolutely delicious. Even Oliver quieted for a few moments to eat. After eating, I went into the tent with Norah and Corum to get ready for the festivities. I changed, then lay down on my bed to read, while Oliver stayed outside, I suspected with the hopes of seeing members of either team. 

I heard Oliver yelling “Look who I found!” from outside the tent. Norah stood to pull the flap back just as Harry Potter was shoved gently through. “Hiya, Harry,” I said, waving as Oliver excitedly introduced him to Norah and Corum. Holding up the water jug, I squeezed past Ron and Hermione and headed out of the tent. I wandered out of hearing range just as Oliver was describing how he got signed with Puddlemere. I wandered through the campsite, heading toward the tap and nearly collided with Fred and George as they stepped out of the woods. They were dressed casually in jeans and tshirts, and holding stacks of firewood. “Oops,” I said. “Watch it,” Fred said, then looked over his towering bundle of sticks and saw me. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

I looked at Fred surprised. “I didn’t know you were coming,” I said. “Dad got tickets last week,” said George. “Courtesy of the Ministry,” Fred said with a smirk. “So, supporting the Irish I see?” I was wearing low slung jeans and a loose, off the shoulder crop top that said Team Ireland in letters that flashed. I had woven strings of shamrocks through my hair. I grinned and said, “Oliver’s mum got this for me, she’s a big supporter. Still think Krum will get the snitch?” Fred and George nodded. “We brought our savings to bet on it. We’ll make our fortune on it, you’ll see.”

“I hope so!” I said. “Well, I better get the water. You two should come hang out after the match. We can celebrate your winnings!” George made a face. “How about you find us when Oliver has bored you to tears with his nitpicking critique of the Keepers.” “He’ll have to stop talking about playing for Puddlemere first!” I retorted. Fred and George looked surprised for a moment, but recovered quickly. “Well well well,” said Fred. “Good for him,” said George. I shrugged then waved them off. “See you after the match!”


	8. Chapter 8

In the midst of the post-match celebration, Oliver and I Apparated home. As soon as we appeared in his bedroom Oliver picked me up and tossed me on to the bed. He removed my clothes roughly, in a fever of excitement and energy, all the while giving play by plays of the match as if I hadn’t been there. Hurriedly, I pressed my lips into his, then pulled back. “Oliver,” I said. “Shut it.” He looked startled, then grinned wolfishly and said, “Make me.” 

Thinking back to the day of the house cup I grinned back. “Ok,” I said, motioning him to lay down. “Try not to think about anything but Quidditch.” I straddled his waist, and turned his head gently to the side. Licking in slow, long strokes I worked my way down his body, starting at his ear and moving down to his obliques. Nipping and biting occasionally, I mirrored my actions on his other side with my hand, tracing my fingertips along the broad swell of his pecs and the hard lines of his abs. By the time I reached the groove of his obliques his cock had begun to stiffen, and he kept losing his train of thought as he described the match. I traced that groove with both hands as I ran my tongue up his cock, flicking it across his head. 

Tracing the ridge at the base of his head with my tongue, I pulled it into my mouth. I leaned forward slightly, letting his head rub across the ridges in the top of my mouth, then pulled back. I repeated this motion until the head of his cock was slick with my spit. As I slid one hand down to gently cup his balls, I thrust my head forward, sending as much of him as I could manage into the back of my throat. “Unnghh,” he moaned and his hips bucked up at the sudden and intense pressure. As his hips rose off the bed I gagged around his cock, my throat clamping down on him. He lowered his hips and I let him slide out of my mouth until just the tip remained between my lips. 

He tried to regain his composure and I did it again, rapidly forcing his length down my throat, then letting him relax again for a second. The next time he spoke I repeated the process but did not stop. Instead, when only his head rested inside my mouth I pressed back down taking all of him again and again until the only sounds he made were moans. I felt hands on the back of my head and he lifted me off him. “Stop, I’m going to cum if you keep up like that.” I grinned and wiped spit from the corners of my mouth. “That’s the idea,” I said. His fingers tightened in my hair and he pulled gently. I moved up his body, following the pull on my hair, until my lips hovered above his. “Not yet,” he said, then brought my lips to his and kissed me deeply. 

While we kissed I felt his other hand slide up my body to cup my breast. As my nipple rolled through his fingers I moaned into his mouth. Suddenly, he shifted, and I was on my back under him. He slid a hand between my legs and pressed a finger into me. His eyes closed and he let out a low purring sound as his finger came away wet. Pressing my legs out to the side he settled between them and I felt the tip of his cock slide along my cunt. He looked at me and pressed in slightly, then stopped. I threw my head back into the pillows and groaned out, “Dammit Oliver, fuck me.”

He pushed into me with agonizing slowness, hands resting on my hips to keep me from lifting them to force him into me quicker. “Oliver, if you don’t fuck me right now, you won’t get this again until you win the World Cup.” He sighed and pouted as if I was asking him to sell his favorite broom, then without warning, grabbed the headboard and buried himself to the hilt. I cried out and arched my back and the intensity of the pleasure. He moved in and out in rapid deep movements until I was close to cumming. When my moans became more desperate he leaned forward and whispered, “Roll over,” then slid out of me. 

I obliged, rolling over onto my knees, pressing my chest flat against the bed. I wiggled my ass enticingly and giggled. I felt the soft pressure as he rubbed the head of his cock along my slit, then slowly pushed inside me, savoring the different angle. I made happy little sounds and stretched out like a cat. His hips pressed into my rump and I leaned back, hungry for every delicious millimeter. He chuckled low in his chest and I felt the hum of it vibrate along my skin. I felt one finger trail a light line down my spine. He followed the line all the way down, until he grazed lightly over my bum. He rubbed gently, and I shuddered with nervous excitement. 

He began to thrust lightly, withdrawing his cock only an inch or two, before bringing his hip to mine. Slowly, rubbing concentric circles, he worked his finger gently into my ass. I relaxed comfortably around him, and within a few moments, he was able to add a second finger. I moaned into the bed spread, fighting down the urge to cum. He began to thrust more vigorously, caressing the thin wall between my most intimate places. I gasped as the heat of the building orgasm spread through my body. 

I groaned in frustration as he withdrew at the last second, quelling the rising tide of the orgasm. Before I could express my displeasure, I felt the tip of his cock nudge just under his fingers. Slowly, he withdrew those too, and moved his cock to take their place. I took in a sharp breath as he pressed past the tight ring of muscles and he let out a small groan of satisfaction. He placed his hands firmly on my hips, pressing me away from him, as if he were preventing himself from pushing inside me. We froze there for a moment, both breathing hard. One hand slid over my side and between my legs to rub languid circles around my clit. 

I moaned and fought the urge to thrust back against him as he slowly shifted his hips forward, filling me a millimeter at a time. It felt like an eternity had passed when I finally felt the warm press of his thighs against the back of mine. He paused there too, and it was long enough that I turned my head and said, “Oliver?” His eyes were closed and he was biting his lower lip. “I just need a moment,” he said, his voice tight and deep. I wiggled slightly, still watching him over my shoulder. His eyes flew open and he tightened his hand on my hip. I grinned devilishly and wiggled again. He growled and pulled out a little, then shifted forward, filling me up again. I moaned and broke eye contact. 

He began to take up a steady rhythm, only withdrawing a little before pushing back inside me. Each time he withdrew a little more, until he was a little more than halfway out. When he thrust back into me I came. I had been so preoccupied with the activity I hadn’t really felt the flush of the orgasm creep over me. It washed over me so suddenly that I rocked back instinctively, sending him further inside me. He grunted and panted out, “Shit!” while I cried out, “Fuck me Oliver! Just fuck me!” And fuck me he did. He increased his rhythm rapidly as I rode wave after wave of heated pleasure, burning through my body. The roaring in my ears muffled his moans as his thrusting became discordant.  
His thrusts slowed as the orgasm ebbed, and he rubbed slow circles along my back. When we could speak again he asked gently, “Are you ok?” I nodded, and moaned as he shifted. “I’m going to pull out now,” he said softly, and I nodded again. The sudden emptiness was jarring, and I bit my lip to keep myself from crying out. He flopped down on the bed and reached toward the bedside table for his wand. I felt the crisp sensation of the cleaning spell as it washed over me. Sighing contentedly I stretched out on the bed next to him. 

“So,” I said after a minute, raising myself onto my elbows to look at him. “It was good then, yea?” He looked at me and chuckled. “I didnae think I was goin ta last.” His brogue was thicker than normal, and the rumbling sound of his voice sent shivers down my spine. “Oh no,” he said. “I’m goin ta need some time to recover.” “That good huh?” I asked, smiling. “Incredible,” he said, matter of fact. “I think ye may have some banshee in yer genes. I’ve never heard ye hit those notes.” I stared at him, then started laughing. When the laughter faded, he looked at me seriously. “Are you ok though? I didn't hurt you, did I?” The thicker than normal brogue had begun to fade, and I smiled. “It was wonderful. Different, by very, very enjoyable.” “Good,” he said and pulled me into his arms and dragged the blanket over us. 

I fell into a deep dreamless sleep, until I was startled awake by heavy pounding on the door. Oliver leapt out of bed and threw on a pair of pajama pants. I heard him wrench open the front door and listened to a minute of hushed conversation before Oliver called out to me. I threw on my pajamas and padded into the living room. Nora and Corum were in the living room, Nora seated on a large reading chair, and Corum paced in front of the fireplace. “What’s happened?” I asked as a feeling of dread sank into my bones. “Sit down, dear,” Nora said, patting the chair next to her. I sank into it, and looked at her anxiously. “Nora, what is it? Is...someone...” I paused, my eyes roaming over their solemn faces, “dead?” She shook her head. “No dear, everyone you know is fine.” 

Nora told us of the events of the night as Oliver and I stared at her in growing concern. When she finished, she turned to me. “Be careful this year at Hogwarts, dear. There may be some changes coming, and I want you to be safe.” I nodded, unsure of what to say as my mind cycled through a million questions. In a much lighter tone, Nora said, “We’re having breakfast at the house, why don’t you change and join us? Last night’s events make this morning even more beautiful.” I smiled, thinking that the events of last night certainly did make the morning seem   
brighter.


	9. Chapter 9

The next ten days passed quickly and without another incident like the one at the World Cup. Oliver took me around the moors of Scotland by broom, and we raced along in the shadow of the towering mountains. We camped by the ocean our last two nights, distracting ourselves from the inevitable parting that was coming all too fast. The roar of the ocean drowned out our moans and our thoughts as we desperately tried to cement the feel of each other’s bodies in our memories. 

All too soon the sun rose on September 1st, bright and clear over the ocean. Magicking my trunk to follow us, we took off into the air in the early morning light. We calculated the trip to Hogsmeade would be at least 3 hours by broom. As seasoned Quidditch players, 3 hours on a broom was tolerable, and seemed a fitting way to part ways. The chilly September morning gave way to a warm early afternoon as we touched down in Hogsmeade. We had lunch together for the last time in The Three Broomsticks, then stepped outside to say our farewells. 

When Oliver Apparated away with a loud crack, I headed up the long winding path to the school. My footsteps echoed loudly through the empty halls of the castle as I made my way to my dorm. I paused briefly to cast a look behind me before turning to the door. The bronze eagle knocker said, “I can't be bought, but I can be stolen with a glance. I'm worthless to one, but priceless to two. What am I?” I paused for a moment, then said in a voice choked with tears, “Love.”

***Fin***


End file.
